


Tactile Like Sandpaper

by BWaves



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Blind Dave, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Stridercest - Freeform, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWaves/pseuds/BWaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And at first it made you feel weird, not because you didn’t think it was hot- you did that kind of shit with other partners- but because you couldn’t imagine yourself doing those things to Dave. Not to your blind younger brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactile Like Sandpaper

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the ever lovely Aeacus.

The first time Dave proposed a sexual relationship with you, your answer was a resounding, and final ‘fuck no’.

At least it was final until he managed to seduce you. It’s officially been seven months since that day, and Dave’s been spending the night on the futon with you more often than not. Even before your relationship reached these new heights he had been sleeping with you, he claimed that he didn’t like the sounds he could hear in his room at night.

Which would have confused you had anyone else said it, but with Dave being blind… Well, it made sense. Until, of course, the night he shoved a hand in your pants and the entire ruse fell apart.

He had never been scared of his room, the piece of shit.

You love your little brother. You always have. You want to make him happy any way you can, but for the past while he’s looked positively bored during sex, and you can’t figure out what the deal is.

Okay, no. That’s a lie. You know what the problem is. The problem is that he wants to be manhandled, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. He says it’s because you can’t let go of the idea that he’s fragile because he can’t see. That’s not true at all. You know that Dave isn’t and you don’t treat him so. 

Or at least not intentionally.

He tries to tell you what he wants. Just the other day he went so far as yelling at you, you believe the exact words were “Pull my hair or something, christ!” Since then he’s been sending you links to articles, he’s been encouraging you to learn what he wants.

And at first it made you feel weird, not because you didn’t think it was hot- you did that kind of shit with other partners- but because you couldn’t imagine yourself doing those things to Dave. Not to your blind younger brother.

But. You could come around. And you have. You’ve made a plan. If it doesn’t work out then it doesn’t work out. But you decided to indulge. You had to dig to get your voice, but eventually you found it, standing at the end of the hall and clearing your throat.

“Dave!” You call, and hear him yell ‘what?’ from his room. “Come here.” Simple command. Easy to follow. It takes a moment but eventually Dave steps out of his room, wearing nothing but a pair of loosely tied sweatpants.

“What do you want?” He asks, not quite looking in your direction.

“C’mere,” you say again, tapping the floor with your foot. Dave follows the sound and is standing in front of you after a moment. “Get on your knees.” His eyes widen, just a hint, his eyebrows go up and his mouth flaps once before he manages to speak.

“Uh. Okay,” he mumbles, but before he can get too far you grab his chin, pretty roughly, he gasps a bit, but he doesn’t fight, he stops dead in his tracks, and waits, patiently for whatever you have to say.

“That’s yes sir. Got it, Dave?”

“Yes, sir,” he breathes out. You let him go, offer a soft ‘good boy’. He gets down to his knees, head tilted up toward you.

You pet his hair, you sigh softly, and your breath only stutters a bit. You hope he doesn’t pick up that you’re nervous. Dave looks fantastic on his knees like that; you can’t even lie to yourself and say you aren’t enjoying the view. You trace your hand down his cheek and brush your thumb over his lips. You tug a bit, pulling him closer until he’s just an inch off the front of your jeans.

“Get me hard,” you say, your voice low to hide the nerves, but you make sure to keep it demanding. You’ve been here before. You have dominated your fair share of folks since you became sexually active. Dave never struck you as the type to enjoy it, but you’ll indulge him.

His hands are shaking already as he says, “Yes sir.” He grabs the front of your jeans. He only fumbles for a moment before he gets the button undone. He gets them tugged down until he can pull your boxers down too.

You ignore his snort when he grabs you and finds you’re already halfway there. When he fondles you, you sigh a bit because he’s amazingly good with his hands for a nineteen year old. You hadn’t expected him to know how to do anything.

Your hand stays in his hair. You pet and encourage. He’s got you almost fully there when he goes in with his mouth. You grip, you pull him back by his hair, and he moans like a two dollar whore at just that. “Don’t use your mouth,” you tell him, “not yet.” He nods. His eyes flutter at the tug his hair gets with the gesture, and he continues to work you with his hands.

You keep your hold on his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind it; in fact, you think he’s enjoying it. You keep feeling him lean forward, just enough to get you to pull back. When it’s time to switch it up, you can tell Dave’s just as hard as you are.

You use your hold on his hair to guide him, you tell him to get his back against the wall and he moves as your hand does. He’s already breathing heavy, and you’ve hardly done anything to him. You can’t imagine what he’ll be like once you play this out. “What’s your safe word?” you ask him, turning off the ‘dom-voice’ for the time being.

“Taxes,” he answers without missing a beat, and you realize he’s more prepared for this than you yourself are.

“Tap the wall three times if you need me to stop and you can’t talk, alright?” He nods again, head tilted up toward you, though his eyes are off the mark by quite a bit. “Get my cock wet, Dave,” you order then, and let go of his hair.

He grabs you by the base, and he takes you into his mouth. You let him work at his own pace, but soon enough it’s time to move on to your next step.

“Stop,” you say, and Dave does. He stops dead in his tracks. You tug his hair a bit and he backs off, leaning back against the wall. “Safeword. Tell it to me again.”

“Taxes.”

“And what if you can’t-”

“Tap the wall three times.”

“Good boy.”

You pet his hair again, and he sighs, leaning into it. You hold, guide his head back and press it against the wall, you tell him not to move and he gives a soft ‘yes sir’.

You open his mouth with your thumb and you guide your cock into his mouth. He holds still for you. What a good boy. You press in until he gags. His hands go to your hips and you still. You withdraw just a bit and he takes a deep breath, you press in again, except this time when he gags you don’t stop quite yet. He grips your pants, he doesn’t push you away, he doesn’t hit the wall. You make sure not to move too fast for him, you make sure not to hurt him.

Each time you draw back he gags, you slowly work him up until you can sink in to the base, holding onto his hair to keep him from pulling off. His eyes are watering, but he doesn’t tap out. He never safewords when you do pull back enough for him to close his mouth, and swallow. He moans at one point, he gets his mouth back on you himself, and this encourages you. You move faster.

You thrust into his mouth, groaning lowly when he starts to use his tongue. He doesn’t stop choking, but he doesn’t tell you to stop, the tears eventually spill over and once it does you’re finally able to take notice of everything else on his face, the sweat, the slobber. He’s a fucking mess, but he hasn’t asked, or told, you to stop.

Dave is a trooper. When he proves that he can handle the next level, you step it up. You’re outright fucking his throat by the time you’re finally getting close. His hands are still holding onto your jeans, his knuckles are white with the tightness. When you pull back out completely, he coughs, his face is red and the noise he makes sounds like a fucking sob. You think he says something, he breathes words but you don’t understand them. You wait until you can, just in case, you understand ‘please’ and ‘more’ and that’s all you need to shove in again, you hold his hair, bury yourself in his mouth and groan, your forehead hitting the wall. You can feel Dave shaking under your hands, his body fighting to pull back for air. You count down from ten, and then pull back, let him breathe, and he pulls on your jeans again.

It’s just a bit more, a handful of thrusts later, you push in and you come, buried in his mouth. His throat flutters around you, one of his hands slams into the wall, but only once, like he needs a grip on something else.

You pull out, and before he even has a chance to spit it out, you crouch, you slap a hand over his mouth, hold it closed. His eyes are wide and he’s writhing, his body fighting against him when you growl “Swallow it.”

It takes a bit, you’re almost worried when he can’t seem to swallow at all, but he swallows, once, twice. He slaps a hand over yours, but he doesn’t pull it away, he holds it there. He swallows again, two more times, and finally he lets go. His hands immediately grab onto the front of your shirt. You pull your hand away and take in his face. He really is a fucking mess. When the first noise that leaves him is a sob, you feel guilt first.

Initially you think you have fucked up, you think you hurt him, but a glance down shows you he’s still hard in his sweats. He heaves a few deep breaths, he pulls your shirt until he can press his forehead against your collar. You wrap an arm around him and he tugs on your shirt.

“You alright, Davey?” you ask softly. He nods as his hands grip and tug your shirt instead of a vocal response. Nonetheless it’s still reassuring. You scratch his back lightly. “Didn’t hurt you or nothing, right?”

“I am so fucking hard right now, Bro, oh my god,” he groans, and you smirk.

You let go of him, one of your hands goes up to the back of his neck and you rub against the side of it with your thumb. “Then take care of it for me.”

He shudders, he nods, and he wastes no time at all to shove his sweats down and take himself in his hand.

It’s quick, embarrassingly so, he’s loud when he climaxes, making a mess of his chest and hand. He is still shaking, his hands are trembling and hovering over his lap as he tries to get a grip.

You shush him when he starts trying to talk, you scoop him up and carry him to the bathroom. You sit him on the toilet. You get a wet rag, give yourself a quick cleaning and tuck yourself away, before you start the water running in the tub.

He seems to come back into his own mind halfway through you filling up the tub for him. His first words are a whispered ‘holy shit’.

He holds onto you from where you sat him on the toilet. His hands are still tangled in your shirt. You check the water one more time, and then carefully pull his sweats off. When you notice that his entire body is shaking, you’re even more sure he needs this bath. You lower him in, and he doesn’t let go of you. He’s smiling like an idiot the entire time.

It takes a few minutes. You make sure he’s clean, his face is clean, his stomach is clean. He’s smiling at you even though his eyes don’t ever find their mark. He finally talks.

“That was great, Bro,” he mumbles, his voice a bit hoarse. You smirk, get some shampoo into his hair and start scrubbing.

“Glad you approve.”

“Seriously, I didn’t realize you were even capable of that.”

“Not the first person I’ve dominated, Dave,” you mumble and Dave smiles wider.

“So you do know how to do it. You said you didn’t. Liar. Fulla shit liar,” he sighs out without any venom. He leans into your hands when you rinse his hair. You condition his hair next before repeating the rinse. You make sure he’s all cleaned and suds free before you get him out of the tub and wrapped him up in a towel. He’s stopped shaking and he seems pretty content, leaning against you as you scoop him up again and take him to the futon. You set him down and kiss his forehead, pet his hair and disappear to the kitchen only briefly to grab him a bottle of water.

When you give it to him he chugs half of it in one go, and then promptly belches, laughing a little bit.

“So you want me to do it like that?” you ask, kneeling in front of him and resting your elbows on his legs. 

He nods, smirking at you. “Fuck yes. I expect it to be like that all the time, now that I know you’ve got the balls for it.” And, honestly, with how he’s proven that he really does like it, and isn’t going to break (emotionally, mentally or physically speaking) you think you’ll let him have it his way more often.

“Well, later on we’ll sit down and talk about what you want to do, or try, I’ll be right here to make sure you’re safe, alright?”

Dave nods, he lays his head back and closes his eyes, smiling at the ceiling, “I love you,” he mumbles.

You stand up, you kiss him sweetly and sit down next to him, tugging him close to your side. “Love you too, Dave.”


End file.
